Monday, August 18, 2008

Op-Ed: Ve Have Vays of Making You Eat Spaetzel

Stuttgart, Germany—You Americans, always trying to be Mr. Smarty Pants, Mr. Macgyver with ze Hero Mind. But you have no idea how ze real vorld verks. You think you can outwit us, but no. Ve are crafty, ve Germans. Believe me, ve have vays of making you eat spaetzel.

Why try to avoid this, when it is so easy for us? Ve might grind it up vith your Big Mac. Ve might blend it vith a blender, put it in green bottles, and call it Riesling. You know zero about Riesling. You vill have no idea you are eating spaetzel.

Listen, one night ven you are taking out this little frauline you are trying bang, and she suggests ze cute German cafe she’s been hearing so much about, and she looks on the menu and says “Spaetzel, I love spaetzel.” Then you vill be eating ze spaetzel.

Or ve might put it in your soup.

Ve also might send a coded message to your friend Jill, who has been saying for years how much she loves Oktoberfest—this is all according to plan. She vill say that this is ze year, mister buddy boy, that you go vith her to Oktoberfest. It’s fun, never mind that it is Zeptember still! And because you are a nice boy like your mommy raised you to be, you vill go. And because there is nothing else to do at Oktoberfest, you vill have many glasses of Spaten, and guess vut vill be put on a plate and placed in front of you then? Ah? Vut are you going to do, get up and drive yourself to a Perkins? No, no, mein friend.

Don’t be a hero. Eat ze spaetzel.

It’s only a matter of time. All ve have to do is rely on our brutal German fortitude. And also keep ze spaetzel warm because no one wants cold spaetzel.

Vun day ve might distract you vith a lovely Broomhilda vith ze high heels and legs up to her ear lobes. And ven your jaw drops like ze American toad with horns you are, ve vill pop ze spaetzel into your mouth like so much popcorn shrimps. And if you do not drop your jaw, ve have trained Broomhilda to zeduce you and take you back to her condo, where you vill find yourself on her bearskin rug vith her luscious German legs wrapped avound your neck as she is moaning vith pleasure—vut do you think you are eating then?

Think you can tell ze difference between spaetzel and vagina? Okay, how about this: Ve have people in all ze hospitals in your city, so when you go in for your appendectomy, or to pass ze kidney stone, or when you have ze heat stroke, or vutever it doesn’t matter—when ze nurse gives you ze I V, vith ze needle, and the drippy drip, ya? Spaetzel!

Why are you so special that you won’t eat ze spaetzel? Ah? Vut are you, better than every one else? You get to decide vut you eat? Ve have news for you: it doesn’t verk that vay, except in Hollywood or Disneyland or ze Grand Canyon. You can eat vutever you vant in ze Grand Canyon. But ven you come home, trust me, ve vill make you eat ze spaetzel.

Ve could just torture you, you know.

Either vay, this spaetzel thing is going to happen. And you know something? It’s not that bad. It’s like gnocchi. You never had gnocchi? This is okay—ve vill just mix it vith ze spaetzel.

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Copyright © 2008 Newsmaker News.

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